Fall.and.Shatter
Member
- Aug 11, 2022
- 26
This is.. actually I have no idea why I wrote this :>
Just wanted something to do :>>
3. The Masks We Wear
We all wear masks.
Costumes.
Things to conceal us from the world.
Things to let us pretend more easily, and hide from those eyes surrounding us.
Things to make people believe we are okay. That we are not who we really are.
We are all actors on a stage designed by the people around us.
Under the masks, some people are fine.
Unbroken, whole and glowing.
Some of us are more shaded and dark. Drawn in and gray, swirling with shadows.
But they are not like the other ones.
The ones who are frayed at the edges.
Seams ripping apart until you cannot believe that they are still standing.
Wearing that mask which hides the storm, anger, fear, regret and sadness, loneliness and so..so much more.
The costume that hides the scars, still dripping that dark red wine.
The painted-on smiling face on the mask that looks so real, you are distracted enough to miss noticing the tears sliding underneath.
Sometimes the only thing that holds those people together is the mask.
It traps and suffocates, scraping harshly across their faces..
Until they decide to throw them off.
Discarded in the corner as they reach for the bottle of pills hiding slyly in the cabinet under the sink.
Those white, white as snow pills mixed with the dark bitterness of tears slipping down shaking throats by the handful.
They are the people who have chosen to step off the stage.
Leaving big and small holes, or no holes at all behind them as they go.
But the play must go on,
and some of them still wear that smiling mask, bowing at their audience.
As the curtains close, the lights click off.
Another day ended.
Just wanted something to do :>>
3. The Masks We Wear
We all wear masks.
Costumes.
Things to conceal us from the world.
Things to let us pretend more easily, and hide from those eyes surrounding us.
Things to make people believe we are okay. That we are not who we really are.
We are all actors on a stage designed by the people around us.
Under the masks, some people are fine.
Unbroken, whole and glowing.
Some of us are more shaded and dark. Drawn in and gray, swirling with shadows.
But they are not like the other ones.
The ones who are frayed at the edges.
Seams ripping apart until you cannot believe that they are still standing.
Wearing that mask which hides the storm, anger, fear, regret and sadness, loneliness and so..so much more.
The costume that hides the scars, still dripping that dark red wine.
The painted-on smiling face on the mask that looks so real, you are distracted enough to miss noticing the tears sliding underneath.
Sometimes the only thing that holds those people together is the mask.
It traps and suffocates, scraping harshly across their faces..
Until they decide to throw them off.
Discarded in the corner as they reach for the bottle of pills hiding slyly in the cabinet under the sink.
Those white, white as snow pills mixed with the dark bitterness of tears slipping down shaking throats by the handful.
They are the people who have chosen to step off the stage.
Leaving big and small holes, or no holes at all behind them as they go.
But the play must go on,
and some of them still wear that smiling mask, bowing at their audience.
As the curtains close, the lights click off.
Another day ended.
